


Strenuous

by BunniesofDoom



Series: Tumblr Requests [148]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Concussions, Fainting, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sickfic, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Vomiting, emeto, kind of, marie you useless gay, vomit cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunniesofDoom/pseuds/BunniesofDoom
Summary: How to get a girlfriend, Marie style.





	Strenuous

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "concussion" on my sneezehq/bunnysocs tumblr. It features my OCs Jessica and Marie. You can read more about them on my bunnysocs tumblr. Enjoy!

“I thought you were sick?” the manager asks gruffly, looking Marie up and down suspiciously. 

“I was, but I’m feeling better now,” Marie explains, twisting her fingers together in an attempt to hide the fact that her hands are trembling. She’s only partially lying; she spent the night before puking up what seemed like everything she’s ever eaten in her life, and then spent the next day lying in bed, too dizzy and sick to stand up. Today, she’s still exhausted and weak but she’s standing on her feet, which she counts as an improvement. She’s already missed enough hours-she can’t really afford to miss more.

“Well, alright,” he admits grudgingly. Apparently Marie passed inspection. “But stay away from the food. You can restock the back room today.”

Marie nods, relieved, before heading over to the aforementioned storage room. It’s a small room, claustrophobic and dusty, but it’s blessedly quiet and empty after the raucous chatter coming from the dining room.

Reaching up to switch on the light, she winces as the sudden brightness increases the annoying pounding in her head. She can’t very well work in the dark, though. Marie sighs, and scrubs her hands tiredly over her face. 

Despite having spent most of yesterday confined to her room, she still feels shaky and exhausted. But now isn’t the time for self-pity and excuses. She needs to get to work. She’s got a hungry fifteen year old to feed. Cass is depending on her.

Restocking the back room starts off fairly easy. Marie begins with the lowest shelves, rummaging through the assorted boxes and bags and cataloging their contents. She organizes as she goes: the forks, knives, napkins, and other varied kitchen supplies don’t appear to be arranged in any particular order. She does her best to remedy that.

Even though it’s not a very strenuous task, Marie is thoroughly spent by the time she finishes rearranging the bottom two shelves. Her head is spinning, her legs are shaking, and she feels cold sweat trickling down her back. Taking deep breaths, she collapses heavily on the stepladder in the corner, forcing herself to take deep, measured breaths and not pass out.

The ringing echo of a pan hitting the floor jerks her from her daze. Someone must have dropped it, and she must have dozed off. Marie forces herself to her feet on wobbly legs, and drags the stepladder over to the shelf. She’s halfway done, and the last thing that she needs is to get caught napping in the storage room instead of working.

Standing on the stepladder makes everything ten times more difficult. Marie has to divide her attention between grabbing items off the shelves and maintaining her balance on the unstable ladder. Her head, still dizzy and somehow heavy, refuses to focus and makes everything even harder.

She’s about halfway done with the third shelf when the pressure in her head becomes alarmingly sharp, and she sways on her feet, flinging a hand out to grab the shelf to avoid falling over, and breathes a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

The stepladder gives a groaning, ominous creak, and without warning, the platform supporting her feet gives out completely. Marie doesn’t even have time to comprehend what just happened before she hits the ground, hard, and her head explodes in pain. She squeezes her eyes shut against the sudden assault on her senses.

There’s darkness, and Marie drifts for a bit, grateful for an escape from the throbbing in her head. When she surfaces again, there’s a face hovering inches from her own.

“Oh good! You’re awake!” exclaims the girl when Marie finally manages to crack her eyes open. It’s Jessica. Of course it is. “You really had me worried there for a second!”

Marie opens her mouth to say something, but instead of words, she ends up hastily leaning over to the side and bringing up a mouthful of stomach acid. Wiping her mouth, she lets herself fall back to the floor-only to realize that Jessica had pillowed her head in her lap. She tries not to flush with embarrassment. Why does this always happen when Jessica is around? Is she cursed to always look like a fool whenever the pretty pianist is around?

“Oh my gosh, Marie, are you okay?” Surprisingly, Jessica doesn’t sound disgusted, just concerned. “I should call an ambulance!”

The word ambulance finally catches Marie’s attention. She catches Jessica’s wrist when she reaches for her phone. “No ambulance, please. I’m okay. Just hit my head is all.”

Jessica still looks worried, but Marie is sure that it’s just a mild concussion. No need for a hospital; not to mention that Cass will kill her if she finds out that her sister went into work today when she’s supposed to be resting.

Chewing on her lip anxiously, Jessica finally relents. “Okay, if you’re sure. At least let me call you a cab home. And get you off the floor.”

“Home?” Marie asks. It almost sounds like a whine. 

Jessica smiles wanly. “Yes, home. You just hit your head and passed out. You need to go rest.”

“Tis only a flesh wound.” Marie waves it off, giggling for some reason she can’t quite pinpoint. “You’re really pretty,” she announces. It seems important to say.

On the phone with the cab driver, Jessica stutters and blushes fiercely before regaining her composure.

Marie only vaguely remembers getting in the cab or the trip home, but when she’s lucid again, she’s in her bed in her apartment. She sits up slowly, grimacing at the pounding that comes with the sudden movement. 

There’s a note on the bedside table. “The manager says to take the next two days off. Get some sleep and feel better!” ~Jessica. And next to the signature, a phone number.

Marie stares at the note in disbelief.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment and leave kudos!


End file.
